44 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
Then, speaking energetically, he said, “ Boys, 
never fire at a bar’s head, even if your iron is in his 
ear, its unsartain; look how I missed the brain, and 
only tore the smellers ; with fewer dogs, and sich a 
shot, a fellow would be ripped open in a powder flash; 
and I say, cuss caps, and head shooting; they would 
have cost two lives to-day, but for them ar biessed 
dogs.” 
With such remarks Bob Herring beguiled away the 
time, while he, with others, skinned the bear. His huge 
carcass when dressed, though not over fat, looked like a 
huge young steer’s. The dogs, as they recovered breath, 
partook of the refuse with a relish; the nearest possible 
route out of the Retreat was selected, and two horse 
loads took the meat into the open woods, where it was 
divided out in such a manner, that it could be taken 
home. 
Bob Herring, while the dressing of the bear was go- 
ing on, took the skin, and, on its imside surface, which 
glistened like satin, he carefully deposited the caul fat, 
and beside it the liver—the choice parts of the bear, ac- 
cording to the gourmand notions of the frontier, were in 
Bob’s possession ; and many years’ experience had made 
him so expert in cooking it, that he was locally famed 
for this matter above all competitors. 
It would be as impossible to give the recipe for this 
dish, so that it might be followed by the gastronomers 
